At World's End
You found this journal in Cromlech, in a secret underground room that also contained a dead, bound devil. This journal was scorched beyond readability, but was repaired with a Make Whole ritual. Here are the contents.
The first entry is dated over 40 years ago
I found an out of the way hamlet to set up my trials. The people here are superstitious, backwater idiots. It won’t be hard to become their leader and start my work here. Even now the people have accepted me, and all it took was some half-baked story. It shouldn’t be long now.
The next entry dates 13 years after the previous one.
These people have grown to like me; I’ve built a life here, as dismal and pathetic as it may be. I’m in position to become leader, now that the current one has fallen ill from some unknown infection. Lucky me. Looks like I can start moving forward with the plan.
A few months later:
I’ve done it. I’m the new warlord of the town. All it took was some cheap tricks and a few dead swamp beasts. I’ll begin preparations soon. I’ve been working on this ritual for years now, but I can finally start testing it on people. I wish Brother could see me now.
A year later
Superstitious fools. They’ve started to blame the missing people and deaths on some kind of swamp deity. Looks like this will take longer than expected, with so few tests every year, but I’ll be able to continue to work in secrecy, so its a price I must pay, I suppose.
So far the trials have been failures. I’ve been unable to keep the spirit in any form which can be harvested after the death of the body. I shall keep trying though. I must find the answer.
The next several entries are all bits and pieces of a ritual she must have been working on. There are notes scrawled over the ritual, with some parts crossed out and other parts written back in. Eventually you get to another entry, exactly a year after the last one:
Bah, another failure. These wretched humans are worthless. No good at all. I’m going to have to wait another year to try again. At least they don’t suspect me. Magic has been ostracized, thanks to these yearly “spirits”, and no one believes I’m anything but a leader.
For several years it seems Sanzenin was working on this ritual unsuccessfully. There are a few other entries between the ritual notes, but nothing substantial, just her commenting on her failures and work. Until you come to this one, which is dated 3 years ago:
I spoke with Brother today. He’s moving forward with his part of the plan. I told him I’d be ready. I have to be ready. The wretches in this village grow more suspicious daily. I’ve had to bring in outside help just to keep them in line. Fear is a much better tool for keeping the rabble in line.
A year later:
I’ll have to start increasing my tests if I’m going to succeed. I can’t use just 2 people a year. Next year, I’ll be doubling my tests.
The expert on the subject has informed me that I will need some kind of power source if I want to keep the spirits on this plane for longer than a moment. Maybe brother can help me with that; I’m still waiting for a response.
Another year later, 1 year ago from current time:
Brother has offered an artifact of power to use for my rituals. I’m not entirely sure what it is, but it feels powerful enough. This will work, I know it will. I must make Brother happy, he said he’s nearing the completion of his work. Its all on me now. Its time for me to show the world my power.
The last entry:
I’VE DONE IT! Success at last. My two pairs of test subjects were entirely successful. Two spirits now linger in this world, and I hold them in The Artifact. Brother will be so pleased. I will leave this place with the remainder of the people. This will be my last entry. I must prepare the rest of the villagers. This spirit has driven most people mad with fear; I will be relocate them somewhere my trials can continue undercover.
I’m not sure where I’ll end up when this is all over. Probably back to the Iron City; at least I know no one can follow me there.
The rest of the pages are left blank.